


Heavensward and Hellbound

by ThatOneDiviner



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: 5.4 spoilers, Aftermath of Violence, Crisis of Faith, Duskwight Elezen (Final Fantasy XIV), Elezen Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Love Confessions, Other, Past Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:35:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27776224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatOneDiviner/pseuds/ThatOneDiviner
Summary: Excerpts from the memoirs of those involved in the life and times of Scarlet Nightdreamer, Warrior of Light. These are believed to include sections removed from the official publication of Heavensward, tales told by those in the Warrior's inner circle, as well as a few of the Warrior's own recollections.//Drabbles set whenever the heck I want them to be.
Relationships: Warrior of Light/Estinien Wyrmblood
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

It didn't take a lot to notice her on the battlefield. Outside of the usual methods of tracing the trail of destruction left in her wake, one could train themselves to look for the nearest display of magical prowess. Even in the whirlwind that most melee combat wound up devolving into, there remained traces of magic in the air. Aether one could almost taste, hanging static in the air, as if to herald the coming storm. Remains of a past abandoned, Estinien noted.

She'd come a long way since their travels through Dravania together. She hadn't been bad with a lance then, but put frankly, the image of her insisting a lance was merely a staff with a pointy end still lingered as a sore point in his memory.

Maybe at that point at least, it had been fact. She was a gifted Conjurer, and if rumors were to be believed - and he did, he'd seen her in action - an even more formidable White Mage. The staff in the physical more a means to provide her access to yet another tool in her ever-growing arsenal. He'd offered her a few pointers during their travels. Noted how she favored one leg over the other when blocking with her staff - a result of her close encounter with the Crystal Braves in her flight to Ishgard, he'd been told. Noted that she tended to skirt around her opponent. A result of her training as a caster, no doubt. 

Her magical training bled into her lancework, forming a combined style that worked practically in what it was meant to do, but was obviously inferior to both proper Dragoon training and proper Conjury in a longer battle.

Which is why they were both thankful that the occasions in which she had to utilize her staff as an impromptu quarterstaff were few and far between that trip.

And yet, it was with a single-minded determination that she had hung up her staff. Swapped out her set of battlemage's robes for drachen mail. He had wondered, of course, when they met up at the Royal Menagerie. But, ever elusive even off the battlefield, she dodged his questions. Gave a half-truth as an answer. She wouldn't lie directly to his face, he knew that. And yet. And yet.

"White magic is hard to manage when you're angry. I'd hate to turn it against those I had promised to protect. To heal. To soothe." she had said.

And he'd listened. That was as much as she would give him, and he had pried no further, content in getting an answer that was, at least if not the full truth, a half-truth he could understand. He'd seen her in the moments before Thordan's demise in the aetherochemical research facility. Seen the infernal white light surrounding her, for the briefest of moments. He saw her lose control in her grief for the briefest of moments after their failed venture into the Vault.

The excuse was believable, something easy for both Scarlet and those around her to swallow. An excuse that let them pretend everything was fine. That everything could go back to the way it was before. Before this. Before everything.

He hadn't been there when she'd come back to Ishgard after dealing with the Warriors of Darkness. Had only vaguely heard of the events at Baelsar's Wall that lead to the death of one of her fellow Scions.

"Four would have been too much. I do not think I could bear losing another friend. Call it a moment of selfishness." she had said when he had questioned her in the infirmary after she and Alphinaud had pried Nidhogg's eyes from his mail. Why had she stayed her hand? Why spare him, why aid him? Questions asked and an answer freely given.

And now her count was at five. Friends she had not been there to save, friends she had talked of incessantly on the road.

"When this is all said and done, and when the dust is settled, I fully intend to go back." she'd told Alphinaud. He wasn't supposed to be listening really, but it was getting late, and Ysayle had already retired to her tent to rest, leaving him alone on guard duty. There wasn't much else to do but eavesdrop, however unintentionally.

"You think we can find them?" the boy had asked.

"Of course. It would take a lot more than what was thrown at them to kill them. We will go back, we will clear the Scions' names, and we _will_ find our friends again and take them home, come hell or high water." A promise made, its creator ignorant then of the fact that it would be impossible to keep.

Good intentions, and high hopes, dashed against the stones beneath the streets of Ul'dah, and the cold metal walls of Castrum Oriens.

And so grief eventually took her here, to the fields of the Ghimlyt Dark. Seeking a purpose, a cause to bury herself in. He'd heard of the Scion's fates. How they were, just now, falling into a slumber from which they could not be stirred. Had borne silent witness to Scarlet's frantic attempt to hold onto Alisaie, to keep something of her organization, her friends with her. Her healing skills, however rusty, were pulled out, brilliant flashes of spluttering white lighting the scene. They had failed, as the other attempts to wake the Scions had, and Scarlet had been left to carry Alisaie back to camp, the smaller elezen resting gingerly in her arms.

And here she was now, racing to face some unknown foe. He'd wandered here of his own accord, partially to satisfy his curiosity as to how Aymeric and Scarlet were doing, another part an attempt to soothe his own doubts gnawing at the back of his mind. A second chance at life shouldn't be squandered, and while it had been too long for him to be comfortable serving with Ishgard's own Temple Knights, he could help in some small capacity on his own. Were either Aymeric or Scarlet there, he had no doubts that they would point out that his shell was not so tough as he would like to admit. If he was in a good mood, he might even have been inclined to agree with them.

Alas, neither of them were there to make that observation, and he was not high spirits. Chasing down airborne magitek armor, while an interesting application of his Dragoon training, was working out to be a lot trickier than he had initially estimated. And so it came to be that he was resting on his latest prey, when he saw her running into the fray.

Outside of her armor she was as conspicuous as a goobhue wandering the streets would have been. The bright blue hair and noticeable purple tattoos tended to easily give her away, to the point of which she had joked about never putting together disguises on account of being so easily recognized. To that end, he supposed the bright blue drachen mail she favored was a step up in anonymity, even if it also stook out like a sore thumb. She was still easily recognizable if you knew the Knights Dragoon members by the color of the armor they wore though, and Scarlet had thankfully chosen her own color in accordance to tradition.

At the very least, it made following her easy even without the visual aid she left in the form of collateral damage.

So he did, for a time. He eventually stopped when she did, confronted with a walking corpse.

He supposed he shouldn't really be surprised. Ascian fuckery, as she had so eloquently called the process. He had been with her to witness the crown prince's demise, had seen the man slit his own throat, both Scarlet and Lyse a step too late to stop him. Zenos had died that day, and left their group to pick up and scatter the ashes he had left behind. Corpses like that are not supposed to walk, not supposed to talk, and certainly not supposed to be able to wield a weapon.

And yet, here one was, doing just that. Elidibus, Scarlet had called him. The Emissary. And even for his gift of undeath, of immortality, he was losing.

The fight was fast paced, a dance between experts. Elidibus turned out to be just as capable at wielding a sword as his body's previous owner, and for her part, Scarlet was putting in a good showing. Never staying in one place for too long, always standing right on the knife's edge of her effective range with the lance, dodging in and out with each swing from Elidibus. Not relying on her lance to block, but rather her own intuition to dodge attacks, each thrust or swipe from Elidibus matched by one of her own.

And then two, or three. And eventually Elidibus fell, defeated. leaving Scarlet to sink her lance into the ground below her and lean on it, exhaling heavily.

Estinien was about to turn and leave when he saw Zenos's body rise up again, wounds closing and being unmade, as if the battle had never happened. Scarlet groaned, jerking her lance out of its place in the ground.

Another round then? Nothing she could not handle, if the first was anything to go by, but one he intended to stay and watch all the same. He had a nagging feeling in the back of his head telling him to stay. Something was wrong. Maybe he could convince himself it was because he could see Scarlet's arms wavering, albeit only slightly, noticeable only if one was looking for that tell. Maybe it was because he had seen how thin she'd worn herself out over the past few days, in her efforts to aid the Eorzean Alliance where needed. Maybe it was the fact that he knew that the visions preceding each Scions being pulled into a coma had incapacitated those left behind for minutes at a time and that even Scarlet had been witnessed experiencing the same level of pain as the others.

Maybe it was just worry over the health of a friend.

But something was telling him to stay, so he did. In the distance he could vaguely hear the shouts of the Alliance forces approaching. Scarlet only had to win one more fight - just one, and then she'd have the backup she needed

It was a lucky thing he did. Scarlet readied her lance again before leaning down and charging at Elidibus, lance lowered and ready to strike at him. And then it happened.

To her credit, she didn't collapse as most had the last few times these visions had happened. Perhaps it was the fact that she was getting used to them now, but this one merely stopped her dead in her tracks, lance thudding uselessly to the ground as she clutched at her head, clawing at her hair, responding to a voice only she could hear. Elidibus paused for a moment, seeming to contemplate sparing her life. Estinien prayed he would. An incapacitated enemy is just as good as a dead enemy in most cases, and it would be hard to argue that Scarlet was not incapacitated at that very moment.

His prayers went unanswered. The Ascian decided against mercy, walking up to Scarlet, raising his sword and whispering condolences that Estinien couldn't quite hear.

He didn't stop to make them out. His mind made up, Estinien leaped towards Scarlet. A favor for a favor, a life for a life. She was not the only one capable of making stupid decisions to save a friend and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to try to return the favor. 

Too late to save her from the blow itself, but fast enough to pull her back to a range where instead of being split in twain she had merely been left with a long cut, shoulder to hip. And then they were off. He couldn't quite remember how they got out. He only vaguely remembered carrying her out in some form or another, blood staining the path a deep red in their wake. Eventually he had to stop, forced to inspect her wound.

She was still conscious, barely, but not in a lucid state to clearly answer or respond to any questions he may have had. No matter. They had traded tip for tip in the Churning Mists. His lancework expertise for her experience in medical care. Never one to look a gift horse with perfectly useful information in the mouth, he had asked her to show him a few tips for treating battlefield wounds. And thank the Fury she had.

It wouldn't be enough on its own, but the patchwork bandaging, stitching, and cleaning he managed to do would likely be enough for the chirurgeons to take over once they were both back at camp.

The trip there was anything but smooth though. She woke up once or twice on the way back, asking the same questions he had wondered about after being possessed by Nidhogg.

"Why me? Why save me?" she had lamented.

He had no proper answer. Because you are my friend? Because I owe you a life debt I could never repay and this is the closest I can get to doing so right now? Because I was in the right place at the right time? None would be what she wanted to hear.

"Two would have been a bit much." he said, settling on lamely echoing her own sentiments of a year ago. A pale imitation of her intentions to be sure, but the thought was there.

She shifted slightly. "You didn't have to, you know." A pause. "I was prepared to die. Have been, for a while now."

He stiffened, grip tightening ever so minutely.

"What for? Eorzea needs you alive more than dead. A heroic last stand is only useful as the setup for a martyr."

She remained silent for a time.

"Not that." she finally managed. "I faced Zenos twice before our fights in Ala Mhigo. Foolish, t'would seem. I lost both duels, and the victory wasn't even close. And yet..."

"You took them anyways. A fool's mission."

"No fool's mission. I'm no fool."

Another pause, this time on his end.

"Deliberate then." He stopped to inhale shakily before continuing. "Seeking forgiveness from those not here to give it to you _is_ a fool's errand all the same. There are those here who need you in the moment. Save your strength and rest for those of us who still wish you here." Believe me, I would know, he wishes he could say. He wishes, he wishes. But condolences and empathy would drive her away right now and he knows this. And so he holds his counsel.

The rest of the trip back to the camp was silent, Scarlet softly shaking into his shoulder and him pretending he didn't notice the tear tracks washing away some of the blood staining his armor. Eventually, by some mercy, she managed to drift into a coma. It was in this state that he handed her off to Aymeric and hurriedly took his own leave, avoiding Aymeric's questions about whether or not he'd stay. 

Maybe at a later date he'd repay her the favor she'd done him by staying by his side throughout his infirmary stay. Today was not that day though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eorzea's biggest walking thembo has emotional constipation, gets lectured on it by the walking personification of emotional constipation himself.
> 
> Please forgive how messy this is I had an idea at 4 AM and had to write it, and editing is for chumps.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5.4 SPOILERS. 5.4 SPOILERS. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT ABSOLUTELY CAUGHT UP TO THE END OF 5.4'S MSQ.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyways guess who wanted to imagine what the Scions calling upon Estinien again would be like loooooooooool
> 
> scar: so sorry i had my receptionists track you down again but like. we need your help killing a dragon.  
> estinien: ...okay fine. what dragon?  
> scar: ...  
> estinien: what dragon scar?  
> scar:..............supercharged bahamut.  
> estinien: .__.  
> queue "look neither of us is getting paid enough for this bullshit please just help me"
> 
> Also hashtag end the Miqo'te monopoly on ear wiggles we LOVE elezen ears that betray emotions.

Scarlet shifted in her seat, eyes roaming back and forth in search of her target. He'd probably show up, she'd put good money on that at least, but the when and where were always a matter of debate. If he wanted to make it easy on Krile and Tataru, he'd show up at the cafe they'd ever-so-kindly suggested. If he still remembered their past dealings and was trying not to, then, well - it would probably be up to Scarlet to track him down. A job she was not relishing, given that if she had to track him it would almost certainly lead to a stern lecture for both of them.

Thankfully, _mercifully_ , Estinien decided to show. Scarlet's bad leg silently thanked him.

She waved at the snow-haired elezen, gesturing at the open seat that they'd left for him. Her ears perked up as he approached, and a shit-eating grin spread across her face.

"You're late." she stated as he walked over. A paltry greeting, to be sure, but the only one she could settle on in front of company. Thoughts of 'I've missed you' and 'How've you been' died as soon as she remembered both Krile and Tataru's penchant for reading further into things than they rightfully should have. Lingering doubts that _maybe they were right_ floated through her head, but she said nothing more. That could wait - if she'd had her way, forever.

"Ran into trouble on the road. Figured that you of all people would understand, given your propensity for attracting it at every opportunity that offered itself up. And a few that didn't." Estinien replied, pulling out the chair and taking his seat by her.

Scarlet feigned a grimace, rolling her eyes as she did so. "If I hadn't taken their offer than I've no doubt you would have. Subtlety has never been your style of attack. I just beat you to the finishline."

Esinien raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to speak when Krile cut him off with a short cough. He quickly shut his mouth and turned to look at her, ears slightly pinned back in disappointment? Annoyance? She couldn't rightly tell, but they sure were pinned back something fierce.

"While that's all well and good, and you'll find no arguments about my colleague's certain... _recklessness_ , I'm afraid we've got bigger problems to worry about. Much bigger." Krile said. Straight to the chase, as usual.

"And that would be? As both I and Scarlet can recall, my business with you was done when Black Rose was dealt with."

Krile turned to Scarlet. "This would probably be a matter best heard from those there to witness it."

Scarlet mouthed a sarcastic _Thanks_ at Krile before taking her head in her hand and sighing. "Would that this were easy to explain. Or something I even really want to try and parse together right now. Look - the long and the short of it is, we have need of your expertise in fighting dragons. There's a specific one we need dead. And sooner would be much, MUCH, better than later in its case." she said.

"Sparse on the details." Estinien commented. "I trust that defeating this dragon would not endanger Ishgard's relations with Dravania, so in lieu of that concern, I would at least know what sort of dragon I would be fighting."

Scarlet shot Tataru and Krile a look. Conveniently, neither Lalafell woman met her eyes, leaving her to look back at Estinien. The bearer of bad news once more. Lovely.

"About that." she started, fumbling for her next words.

Estinien blinked slowly. Always one to play a long game. Damn him. "What kind of dragon?"

Scarlet supposed it was unfair to expect him to know of this latest danger to the realm, and yet, had news not already spread throughout Eorzea. Surely he'd have at least noticed the towers? And if he had, why not ask? He was smart enough to figure out that the Scions probably had some inkling about what was going on. And yet. Well, someone had to break the news.

"What if I told you that we think Bahamut has been reformed?"

Estinien remained silent. To his credit, his only tell was his eyes widening slightly upon the elder primal dragon's name.

"Is that all?"

"He very likely was given a more powerful form by his summoner. Before you ask, yes, it involves Ascians. One who calls himself Fandaniel in particular. No, neither I nor the Scions as a whole know a whole lot about him."

Silence again. Gods, this was awkward.

"And he's threatened to set this shade, or whatever it is, upon Hydaelyn's cities if I don't agree to meet Zenos in combat again. And while I'm not particularly opposed to fighting Zenos again if needs be despite my less-than-stellar track record, I will say that I would much rather do it on my own terms instead of as an ultimatum. To that end we figured we would enlist? Entreat? Beg? Honestly, beg seems more like it. We'd beg your aid in figuring out how to defeat this shade. Given that you are still the walking expert on dragon fighting." Scarlet finished.

Estinien was giving her a Stare. She returned it, hoping beyond hope that she could convey _'Look, this was NOT my choice of homecomings._ and _'I swear on Halone's name I'm not making this up please help us we're all kind of at a loss as to what to do.'_ in a look.

For a small mercy, he did at least remain silent long enough to formulate a response.

"Let me get this straight." he started.

Never a good sign.

"Go on." Krile encouraged, obviously ignoring Scarlet's wish that this discussion end here.

"You want me, regular mortal-"

"Azure Dragoon. With an Ultima Weapon defeat under his belt." Krile corrected, giving him her best innocent smile.

"Mortal Azure Dragoon with one singular impressive win against an imperial enemy under my belt, to fight the shade of the elder primal dragon who singlehandedly caused the Seventh Calamity." Estinien said, turning his Look on Krile.

Krile, ever unphased, simply answered "Yes."

"I feel compelled to add that the Scions have discovered a cure for primal tempering." Scarlet quickly added. Still a large favor to ask, but mildly less risky if he chose to undertake it. Mildly.

Estinien leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and following Scarlet's lead in taking his head in his hands.

"Alphinaud would be grateful." came Tataru's sing-song voice.

 _Him and me both, but we can't exactly just expect Estinien to say yes to this._ Scarlet wanted to say. She wished he'd join the Scions in their travels, missed him dearly as a friend. Truth be told, she missed the days they had spent wandering through Dravania. Time and naivety that couldn't be reclaimed on either side, but the companionship they could offer each other remained mostly unchanged, by no small amount of favors from the gods.

"He would, wouldn't he?" Estinien wondered aloud. "Fine. But only as a favor to the boy."

"You just want an excuse to check in on him after waking up." Scarlet joked, letting out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding in.

"And can you blame me? If you found trouble at every turn, then he was sure to find it even when the path ahead was clear as day." Estinien replied, though Scarlet noticed the corners of his mouth curling upward in a small smile.

"He had an excellent teacher in that regard." Krile said. "He still doesn't know about the _effort_ spent on tracking you down, you know."

Estinien grumbled and rolled his eyes. "Are they always like this?" he asked, turning to give Scarlet a baleful stare.

"They are sitting in front of the both of us. I'm afraid any answer I give will be unsatisfactory." Scarlet said, wincing as she felt Tataru kick her shin.

"For better or for worse, sometimes you need monitoring." Krile said. "Between the two of you, I'm beginning to think you could have the start to wonderful show on disappearing acts. But that's for the future. I figured Tataru and I could leave you two alone to plan it - our biggest wish is for you two to take that superpowered dragon with you as a finale. Do try to have fun planning it."

Scarlet glared at her. "For one so intent on poking at others for disappearing you seem to be awfully eager to leave. Surely your knowledge on aetherial matters could be of use here?"

"And it might be," Krile said, standing up from her chair. "But I'm afraid any explanations I might offer would be wasted on a pair of oblivious elezen, so caught up in reuniting that neither of them have so much as even noticed or touched the food we ordered for them close to two bells ago now. And with that, I'll leave you two to catch up."


	3. The Altar Where Good Men Go to Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We love people going through a crisis of faith, having an emotional breakdown, and then immediately awkwardly confessing their feelings for someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5.3 spoilers
> 
> I'm placing my bets that Estinien is made a Scion in 5.5(5?6?) or early 6.0 so imagine this taking place then.
> 
> If he isn't LOOOOOOOOOL there go my predictions.
> 
> Also if this is janky please forgive me I had this idea at 3 AM.

Estinien walked briskly through the halls of the Vault, footsteps echoing throughout the now-empty nave. It would be an impressive sight while full, pulpit poised and ready for whatever priest was ready to give the day's sermon. As it stood, the orange sunlight flickered brilliantly through the stained glass windows lining the walls above him, bathing the room in a soft golden flame. Beautiful. Nostalgic. Exactly the place where a certain elezen would disappear to in order to remember that evening spent storming these same halls years ago.

Statues of the Fury herself lined the walls, her steely gaze unbreaking as he neared the stairs at the back of the hall. Once he would have found her gaze stern, judging. Now he knew better. She cared little for what went on in these earthly halls, concerning herself only with those halls she lived in. Sower of war, some said, the patron deity of the Holy See's crusade against the dragons. A protector, others argued, looking down and offering herself up as witness to those in need.

Neither one mattered in the end, of course, and he had no strong opinion one way or another. For all the doctrine that had been shoved at him by the See when he had first joined the Temple Knights, it was not Halone who had wound up saving him, or guiding his hand. No - those actions belonged to him and his friends.

These thoughts accompanied him on his walk through the upper halls of the Vault, damnable silence plaguing him when his own thoughts could not.

The airstrip itself was empty, as it had been for years now. With no true Archbishop, there was no need of the Vault's private airspace, and the ship that had once docked there had long since been grounded at Azys La.

The boardwalk was not empty though.

Scarlet stood around the halfway marker, kneeling down, hands folded in prayer, lips moving to whisper a silent devotion. If he'd moved closer, Estinien might have been able to make out what she was saying. As it was he stood back, watching. A silent guardian to watch over the lone parishioner.

"The airship landing is not what many would consider one of the more venerated spaces of the Vault." he offered as he eventually approached her. She stood up, back still turned to him.

Her shoulders shook once. Laughter, but devoid of mirth.

"I have no use for fancy architecture or idolic imagery." she said, back still turned to him. "And in any event, I doubt the gods care whether one chooses to worship them at the altar, or by the hearth. Prayer is prayer. Not like they answer anyways, but given what I - what _we've_ come to learn about them, I doubt that it would matter anyways. It is probably better off they don't answer anyways - you know what the Scions do to primals."

Estinien nodded. Since joining the Scions, he'd had more than enough personal experience in that regard, along with one-too-many close calls for his liking.

They stood there for a few minutes, silence surrounding the both of them in a blanket, the sun starting its descent below the horizon, fiery orange rays silhouetting them both against the empty sky before them. A blazing corona set against the Vault's spires, crowning the heavens with a halo to match that of the Fury's herself.

"You know, I keep telling myself that to justify it." Scarlet eventually said.

"Mmm?" Estinien offered.

"How they don't answer. How I can be okay knowing that they ignored some of their most ardent followers in their hour of need. How I can justify them leaving the best of their worshippers to die." Scarlet said, inhaling sharply, voice cracking the slightest bit.

"They answered for Louisoix. _If_ I am who Emet-Selch and Hythodaeus claim I am. If I _AM_ Azem. If Azem is the basis for the legends surrounding Azeyma. _Why_ did she not answer one of their own when she heard them calling? I prayed _so_ damn hard that night. 'Fury please, let me save him. If nothing else let me save him, _**PLEASE**_.' I tried so, so, hard to save him. And I _still_ failed." Scarlet said, balling her fists against her sides.

"I can still see it, you know. My hands were stained red with blood that night. It was everywhere. Gods know, I TRIED. I used magic. I used physical tools, I tried EVERYTHING. I was one of the most accomplished medics in Eorzea. And still. And still he died. And that was just the first death, because heavens above know the Fury, patron goddess of war herself, wouldn't be appeased with just one." she spat, eyes squeezed shut as tears threatened to spill over her cheeks.

"Why pray at the altar belonging to those who took my friends away from me? Why give credence to those institutions whose actions killed my friends? I've seen too much of this world and those beyond to think myself beyond religion - only a fool conflates blind atheistic cynicism with wisdom. But what use have I of organized religion when all it does is aid and abet the powerful, who are all too willing to cast aside their heroes as soon as they outlive their usefulness? No. My prayers and my altar belong to those I remember. To those who are still here _for_ me to remember."

Estinien nodded. There wasn't much he could offer up, and indeed, if he had to hazard a guess, Scarlet wasn't looking for advice or words of comfort right now. But one's presence was always a solid offer of solidarity you could lend someone, and now was a good time as any to offer it.

Thankfully, his silence did not go unnoticed. Scarlet did eventually turn to face him, and beckoned him to join her.

"Here I pray at my love's altar, the lone marks marring the stone my reminder of that day. Would that I could have done so when he was still alive. But fate is fickle, and time too much a hassle to reverse. All I can do now is ensure that I remember to do so now... if you would join me. I know not what the future holds, and I would be lying if I said confronting Fandaniel and his dragon didn't bother me. I will not make the same mistake twice though." she said, extending a hand towards Estinien.

He took her hand carefully, trying to be gentle and avoid his clawed gauntlets leaving small scratch marks upon her bare palms. "What mistake would that be?" he prompted.

"I didn't tell Haurchefant I cared for him. I all but assumed he knew. And he likely did. But that is a regret that will see me 'til the end of my days. So I won't make that mistake again." Scarlet said, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I know I haven't been the best about showing it, and to be honest, I'm still scared to. I'm scared the world will take you from me. Like everyone else it's taken. But I care. Deeply. Perhaps a bit too much, some would say. I'm not good with words, and I doubt I'll ever say those three specific ones in combination often. But I do. You've been a good friend, more than I deserve. And I guess that's all to say - I do care for you. A lot." she finished, placing her other hand on top of his.

He squeezed the hand he was holding gently and she looked up at him in earnest, small smile playing at the edge of her lips, eyes crinkling slightly.

"Thank you." she said.

"Of course." he replied.

If praying at this altar would give her peace, he supposed he could make a tiny concession.


End file.
